We were supposed to be
friends. We were friends until that night.
He was someone I trusted. He was someone I grew to love and adore, and appreciate over time. He was someone I thought I could always count on. When I didn’t have a car- let alone a driver’s license- he was always willing to pick me up for events and willing to take me back home. He was one of the
sweetest and most kind. He gave me the feeling of security and assurance that I could always depend on him. He was my best friend.
The hardest part about admitting that at one point I considered him to be one of my best friends is that for the longest time I couldn’t trust guys after him. It took me a while before I decided I had to get him out of my life. Before I realized that, NO, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t lead him on. I didn’t intentionally give him mixed signals. It was not my fault for trusting him to the point of being my complete self with him. No, none of it was my fault. He never asked me if I liked him as more than a friend, he just assumed. He never asked if I was attracted to him, he just assumed. He never woke me up that night to ask if I wanted to have sex, he just decided on his own that he could take advantage of my while I was drunk and unconscious.
He was supposed to protect me. He was supposed to be the one who kept me safe from guys who tried to take advantage of me. He was supposed to be my friend. He was supposed to be someone I could trust. Instead, he was the one I needed protection from that night. He was the one who needed to be kept away from me for my own safety that night. He wasn’t my friend that night. He was no longer someone I could trust after that night.
Hours before it all happened, I was drunk and needed to sleep. He saw that I was tired and offered me his room promising that I had it to myself. I brought my friend with me because she was the one who drove us to his party so I needed her to sleep, too, so we can drive home the next morning with her sober. She decided to sleep on the floor while I took the bed. I fell asleep instantly. Then I woke up to him with his hands inside my pants, fingers playing inside of me, and lips pressed against my neck. I thought I was dreaming for a second so I didn’t stop it right away. It wasn’t until he was sucking on my neck and it felt wet that I finally realized this was actually happening to me and I didn’t know who the fuck it was. That’s when I pulled his hand away and pushed him back. I didn’t need the bedroom light on to know who it was at that point.
I couldn’t fucking believe it. How could he!?
I sat up, still drunk, and realized I wasn’t just in bed with one guy, I was in bed with two guys. The other guy, another person I thought was my friend was laying next to me as if he was waiting for his turn. He was still drunk, I could smell the alcohol from his breath sitting up. I jumped off the bed, shook my friend’s arm to wake her up and we left.
She took me home and I went straight for the shower. I must have sat in my bathtub for about an hour leaning against the wall, crying. I kept telling myself, this wouldn’t have happened to you if you didn’t drink so much. It’s your fault you got drunk. You should have not drank. You asked for this.
No, whether I was under the influence or not, my so-called friends shouldn’t have done that to me. Especially him of all people.